Where the Blame Lies(83)

Zach drove to the district quickly, weaving in and out of traffic. Josie embraced the edge of nervousness that skated up her spine with each maneuver. It was distracting her, giving her time to get her emotions under control. She refused to ask what-if questions at that moment. Cooper had lied—by omission at the very least—about knowing Vaughn Merrick. Beyond that, she wouldn’t consider the reasons for his lies or what the larger picture might reveal. She would not picture him as the man who attacked and raped her. I can’t . . . I can’t.

They hurried into the station, stopping inside the front door, and Zach moved Josie aside, turning to face her. “Listen, you can’t sit in on this interview.”

“Why, Zach, I—”

“Because you had an affair with the woman’s husband, Josie.”

She felt as if he’d emotionally slapped her. God, she was so damn delicate at the moment. He’d obviously read the look on her face, because his eyes gentled and he lowered his voice. “I didn’t say that as a form of judgment. It’s just a fact, and Ms. Merrick may hold a grudge. I need her to be as forthcoming as possible.” He looked behind him, seeming to consider something. “You can sit behind the glass though? There are one-way mirrors in the interview rooms. You let me know afterward if she says anything that rings false from what you know of her husband, okay?”

Josie nodded. “Okay.”

Zach paused, looking deeply into her eyes, glancing around before taking her hand in his. “We’ve got this.”

We. She nodded. “Yes.”

Josie took a seat behind the one-way glass and watched as Ms. Merrick was escorted in, Zach sitting across from her. The door to the small room Josie was in opened and Jimmy came in, nodding solemnly and sitting beside her. Josie gave Jimmy a small smile and looked back to the interview room. She took Ms. Merrick in, memory sliding over her. That moment in the museum crystalizing before her eyes. That had been the moment, right there, that she’d begun to change, to really see, even if she’d still been seeped in the familiarity of bad choices and emotional mayhem of her own causing.

“Thank you for talking to me, Ms. Merrick. Something was mentioned to us in the course of an interview and we need to ask you about it.”

Ms. Merrick nodded, lacing her hands on the table in front of her.

“You and your ex-husband planned to adopt a child at one point?”

Ms. Merrick stilled, confusion flashing across her face. “What? Oh . . . yes. But many, many years ago. It . . . didn’t work out.”

“What was his name?”

She blinked. “Ah, Charlie. Charles Hartsman.” Zach glanced at the glass, giving a subtle nod. Jimmy got up and quietly left the room. Josie’s heart clenched and her hands fisted in her lap. Charles Hartsman.

“And his middle name?”

“His middle name? I don’t remember. Detective, what’s this about?”

“I need you to tell me about Charlie, Ms. Merrick.”

She looked as if she might be about to argue, but then sat back, her shoulders lowering. “I haven’t thought about Charlie in a long time.” She looked to the side, remembering. “Our marriage was on the rocks.” She made eye contact with Zach. “It frequently was. My husband as it’s been pointed out, had a hard time keeping it in his pants.” She looked briefly bitter but then sighed, defeat replacing the resentment. “I suppose I was looking for something to fill the void, something that might compel Vaughn to be a better husband, a better father. He’d always wanted a son but I couldn’t have more children. My neighbor and friend had fostered and then adopted and their family seemed so happy, so . . . content. Everyone praised them for their generosity, their goodness for taking children who otherwise had no one.” She paused for a moment. “There’s a website where you can look at the children in need of homes, did you know that, Detective? It’s like the pictures of animals the Humane Society posts. Names, ages . . .”

Zach sat back in his chair, his posture rigid. Josie’s heart thumped heavily. Her throat felt full.

Ms. Merrick sighed. “Anyway, we saw his picture. Such a beautiful boy. He was older than we’d planned on, but we thought, why not? Most people don’t adopt older kids.”

Had they chosen an older child to one-up the neighbor? Josie wondered, but then cast the thought aside. She wasn’t going to judge this woman. Not when she herself lived in a large, glass house rife with cracks.

“Charlie came to live with us. He was such a sweet kid, very eager to please, or so we thought.” Her brow furrowed. “But then . . . he started acting out. In small ways at first, but manipulative too. He’d lie, say he hadn’t done the things we knew he did. We figured he’d had a rough start. It was expected that he’d need us to help him through the adjustment.” She sighed again, fidgeting. “We put him in therapy, enrolled him in acting classes.” She looked up at Zach and her eyes lit up. “He was such a great little actor. We thought with his looks and his talent, he could actually be great someday. Plus, it would help him act out his feelings, you know? He did these great impersonations. His imitations were uncanny and even after only studying someone for a short time. He had my husband down pat.” She released a little laugh. “He’d come up behind me and say something, and I would have sworn it was Vaughn. He’d even put on his cologne so he smelled like him. It was like he understood that you experienced people as a whole, and if every aspect wasn’t just right, the deception wouldn’t work.” She shook her head, a small turning up of her lips. “So talented, even at eleven years old.” Josie’s heart had dropped to her feet and her hand came to her mouth to hold in the sob that was moving up her throat, threatening to break free.